


But There Was A Child

by AJofthe



Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, M/M, Mpreg
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-05
Updated: 2021-02-05
Packaged: 2021-03-16 18:21:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,132
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29211846
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AJofthe/pseuds/AJofthe
Summary: After the Battle of Five Armies and the deaths of Thorin and his nephews, Bilbo returns to the Shire with more than his life and his treasure. Balin's life and the course of history change as he watches Frodo grow up.
Relationships: Bilbo Baggins/Thorin Oakenshield
Comments: 7
Kudos: 121





	But There Was A Child

**Author's Note:**

> Tagged as major character death since that still happens, even though the rest is AU.

The hobbit gazes at Thorin’s tomb with a grief that Balin knows all too well. His tears, to Balin’s surprise, are quiet and barely spill from his eyes. 

There is a strength and a deep, deep commitment that he does not understand until Bilbo looks at him with glimmering eyes and a hand spread across his stomach and asks, “Can I write to you if I have questions? I would write to Oin, but I do not know if I can trust him with this knowledge.” 

Balin does as he has done for decades and takes the shock he feels and buries it deep and far away and assures Bilbo that he can write and ask.

The first letter comes from an elvish scout in the colors of Rivendell and asks about the length of dwarrow pregnancies. 

The second comes from a human merchant who carries the best pipeweed that any dwarrow has ever smoked, several barrels set aside, paid for, and labeled the Company. The letter asks about weaning and there is a sketch of a babe with Thorin’s eyes and Bilbo's nose and familiar curls in pitch and Balin sobs in his office until his head aches. 

The next letter has a half question about how dwarrows age and several pages of stories and drawings and Balin suddenly cannot stand to look at them and leaves them on his desk to flee to his chamber. Where Ori discovers them in the late evening hours. 

Ori pounds on the door to Balin’s chambers loudly enough that Dwalin arrives and all three study the pictures of the tiny baby with hobbit feet, but a hit of a dwarrow breadth with great intensity. 

Balin feels the urge to go elsewhere, to try again, to retake Khazad-dûm, but instead he and Ori go to the Blue Mountains and stop in the Shire.

Bilbo’s eyes still fade into sadness more often than not, unless they rest on Frodo. But Frodo is healthy and happy and greets the weary travelers with joy and a thoughtful consideration that makes Balin’s breath catch. His blue eyes are Thorin’s, but they have not yet been touched with worry, and his dark curls tumble over his shoulders, unmarked with silver. 

That night, after a feast of food that is unfamiliar, but still delicious, Balin tells stories of Thorin as a youngling and his thoughtfulness. Bilbo’s eyes are more rarely sad when they eventually leave, weeks behind schedule, and Frodo makes them promise to return and tell more stories of his da. 

And the journey becomes a regular pilgrimage, with Ori and Dwalin more often than not. Dwalin insists on staying for almost an entire year to teach the lad and a few other Hobbits how to wield the elfish blade that Bilbo still keeps close at hand. One of them, the largest since Frodo has yet to or will never fill out the broader Dwarrow bones he has, is particularly good. But Frodo is not bad with Sting and fast, and his aim with rocks and slings is impeccable. Dwalin sends him one of Kili’s training bows. 

It was perhaps too much to wish that it would remain peaceful. 

And Balin knows little of the original events, only that Frodo arrives at the gates of Erebor, his face carrying similar burdens to those that his da carried, and his three friends at his side although Frodo is now the tallest by several inches. He has not yet, and may never, fill out his broad bones and his lean frame makes him appear smaller than he truly is, but there is so much of Thorin and so much of Kili in him. And the same majestic presence that Fili always bore with ease that cannot be denied. A complicated sling rests over his shoulder, elvish-made, and a very long dagger at his belt. 

Gloin and his son Gilmi encounter the hobbits in Dale and escort them to the mountain at Frodo’s request. As Balin meets them at the gates, Gloin keeps slanting glaces at Frodo that are not at all subtle.

Ori immediately arranged rooms for them next to Balin’s and all of the Company in the mountain gather in Balin’s cozy sitting room for the evening meal. Only Bifur does not begin to look at Frodo as if they know by the end of the meal. 

Frodo’s explanation of the journey is succinct. “On my 33rd birthday and my father’s 84th birthday, Gandalf came for the birthday party and I knew my father wished to speak to him about something, but I did not expect to find an empty house the next morning and a letter informing me that they had gone on an unexpected and urgent adventure.” Frodo’s anger is very Dwarrow and his hobbit companions are clearly confused by it. “But we went to Rivendell and Lord Elrond had no news or knowledge and so we pressed on. Beorn would only say that the world waits and a right riddle that was and of absolutely no use although we stayed for several days.” 

“The elves in that quite unnerving forest with all the spiders just south of here were no use either, although they have nice wine,” Pippin adds and Frodo’s hand drops to his dagger hilt. Sam, the biggest of the hobbits, informs them all that Mr. Frodo did a quite excellent job slaughtering the giant spider that had tried to eat Merry. Frodo laughs that off to give credit to his companions and then looks to Balin. 

“So I have come to ask if my father sought help here from his oldest friends with this adventure?” he asks, although it is clear he already knows the answer. 

Balin meets his eyes reluctantly. “I know of no such adventure and your father’s last letter was full of plans for your birthdays.” He ignores the sharp glances from the Company at the mention of letters. 

Frodo nods, almost as if he had expected this answer and the familiar beaten, but unbowed posture he takes by the fire is so, so deeply reminiscent of Thorin that even Gimli, who had only known Thorin as a boy, registers it. 

After the hobbits have retired, Gloin yells. Loudly, but not loudly enough to reach the other chambers. Bofur is disappointed and Oin has his ear trumpet in, clearly attentive. 

Balin has only one excuse. “Bilbo told me he did not trust another with his secret. It was not mine to share. Ori and Dwalin discovered it by accident. You note that the boy does not bring it up himself, but he knows very well who his other father was.”

The hobbits are unsure where to travel next and Balin, with a mental apology to Bilbo, suggests that Frodo send ravens to the other elvish elders, including the witch in Lothlórien and wait for the response. 

The ravens depart the next day and Frodo amazes Dwalin with some new skills he learned from a ranger who escorted them to Mirkwood with the elvish prince that none have seen since the battle where Thorin and the boys fell. Gimli drags them hunting and reports back that Frodo’s aim with a sling is as deadly as his uncle’s with a bow had been. 

It is a fool’s errand to not expect that Dain will meet the visitors. A risk that Dain will not recognize what the rest of the Company realized without any prompting. But Balin has been his second in Erabor for decades now and hopes that he knows the King’s heart. 

After Dain spends his first meal with Frodo, there is some carefully maneuvering and Balin and Frodo find themselves alone with the King Under the Mountain, who does not look pleased. 

“You are tall for a hobbit.” Dain says and Frodo meets his eyes with a courage that could be from either parent. Balin has tried for years to determine if Frodo’s majesty is Bilbo’s haughtiness or Thorin’s presence, but it is enough to quell even the King Under the Mountain. 

“But not for a dwarf,” Frodo says and his hand is on the hilt of the blade that Dwalin had commissioned for his new height and that he has been drilling with in the training yards. “I am a hobbit though.” His soft, disarming smile charms Dain as easily as Bilbo’s always charmed and Balin’s hope is correct. Hours later, they are deep into a keg of beer and Dain is telling rather embarrassing stories of Thorin’s childhood when a messenger rushes in. Frodo, who despite his size and equal consumption, is by far the most sober, stands to speak to him and then the door swings open again for a female dwarf with long silver hair and a familiar nose. 

She and Frodo gape at each other for a moment and then Dis almost stumbles forward. 

“34 years ago, I did not read a letter your hobbit father sent me,” she says, a hand stretching out. “And I did not know,” she sobs and Frodo must have some experience with weeping, for he gathers her up. 

They discover that Bilbo wrote to Dis as he departed. A simple letter of five lines. 

_I have respected your choice to not correspond and would not, except in the most dire of circumstances, ask for your aid. But the wizard Gandalf and I have discovered that we must travel south on business he says will decide the fate of the world and I must leave my son, your nephew, alone in the Shire. He is of his majority for a hobbit, but I do not know who will come for him given our recent discovery. It would take months for my friends from Erabor to arrive and so I must beg you to either invite him to the safety of the Blue Mountain or to send some well equipped guards to watch over him._

“I was not pleased to arrive and learn that you had left with your cousins so we followed along your route,” Dis says, unwilling to release Frodo’s hand and he appears just as reluctant. “And to think of the foolish years I wasted unknowing.” 

It is a week later when the elvish princeling arrives with Strider and with news of a gathering orcish army. They have already warned his father and Bard, who are gathering their forces. 

The elves of Mirkwood and Rivendell are unchanged, but Bard is old and his hair is silver. He still has a keen eye and strength to pull his bow and his youngest daughter commands their warriors with equal skill at her bow and with a dwarf-made polearm strapped to her back. Her set of throwing knives that are almost identical to Nori’s and make a brief appearance in the training yard. Nori’s smug grin makes it clear who has trained her in them. She, Frodo, and Strider stand over the gates together quite often, but one night Gimli and the elfish prince join them and Balin sees the future.

He does not foresee the great shaking that strikes the entire world just as the Orcish army arrives. Nor does he expect their forces to be victorious against such unsurmountable numbers or for the eagles to come again to Erabor. 

But when all of this has come to pass, he sees that same Company of five, beaten and bloody, but alive, standing back to back together on the field and sees them all swear something to Strider. 

Weeks later, horses carry Bilbo and Gandalf from Lorien. Gandalf has been wounded and Bilbo is gaunt and worn, but they are alive and Frodo refuses to leave his father’s side as Gandalf explains that the One Ring is destroyed. There is much work still to do, but the One Ring is destroyed. 

That work begins as the new Company, the Fellowship of Erabor they insist, leave for Gondor. 

But first, Balin stands with Frodo and Bilbo at the tomb of Thorin. The first silver now streaks through Frodo’s curls, through a small segment at the front braided as only a dwarf’s would be with a bead that came from Dis’ own hair. He is so young and Balin aches for what he will face, but Bilbo seems at peace with it in a way that Balin cannot imagine. 

“I look so like him.” Frodo says. “I saw some resemblance in your drawings, Papa, but in stone…” He trails off and Bilbo rests against him and raises a hand to cup a Hobbit-soft cheek. 

“I see him in you every day. And I know he would have been so proud of you,” he says and their heads rest together. And Bilbo glances at Balin, his eyes no longer glimmering and the two old friends smile.


End file.
